


Hime

by AshlarKithkanan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen, WAFF, fan character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshlarKithkanan/pseuds/AshlarKithkanan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tokyo will never cease to be his little princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeld](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Aeld).
  * Inspired by [Bad Influence](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3621) by Aeld. 



> **Title:** Hime  
>  **Genre:** Family/WAFF  
>  **Characters:** Japan (Honda Kiku) + Tokyo (Honda Chiyo)  
>  **Pairing(s):** past Tokyo/NY  
>  **Rating:** Gen  
>  **Warnings:** unbeta-ed  
>  **Summary:** Tokyo will never cease to be his little princess.
> 
>   
> 

**6pm, Spring of 1980  
Omotesando, Tokyo, Japan**

Japan paused with his hand on the handle of the wooden garden gate. The patter of the rain on his bright red wagasa was amplified by the hush in his surroundings; even the cacophony from Omotesando's evening rush hour was muted. It was like the real world had dropped away upon entrance to Chiyo’s house and he felt like he had stepped into another realm. The walk through his daughter’s unnaturally still house towards the garden had troubled him.

As had the simple envelope that had mysteriously appeared before him whilst he was having lunch a week ago. It contained a sheet of delicate rice paper and was an invitation for a chaji written in his daughter’s distinctive calligraphy.

Japan had mixed feelings about the supposedly amicable break-up between his daughter and America-san’s son, New York. As a father, he felt duty-bound to avenge his daughter’s honour. As Tokyo’s father, he knew his daughter’s pride and concept of honour. She would rather face death than be seen as weak and something to be pandered to.

Keeping his face impassive, he pushed the gate open and solemnly walked into the path leading to the old fashioned teahouse in the far corner of the garden. Immersing himself in his senses, as is the traditional way of easing into the cha no yu, he focused on the way the smooth volcanic stones that paved the path blossomed from a dusty grey into a pleasingly dark shade of dark blue under the assault of the rain. Her zen garden had been carefully raked into what looked like ocean waves of pebbles and gravel crashing against a large flat bastion of a rock with… what looked like a Hello Kitty plush toy standing on it.

With a soft curse for his failing eyesight due to his age, he squinted against the gloom of the twilight until he could make out the details of the doll’s costume. The soft lights from the garden’s stone lanterns barely helped him see it but he could now ascertain what was in front of him.

It was the exact replica of the dress of that porcelain doll he had given to her ages ago. During the start of the Tokugawa shogunate to be exact. It was exquisitely crafted by his best dollmakers and artisans as befitted a gift for his princess. The richest silks imported from China for the elaborate kimono, the finest porcelain for the fair face and limbs, the most lustrous lacquer glazed over dark cherry wood for the kushi, kanzashi and katana sheath, the most delicately crafted rice paper for the doll’s red wagasa: all were personally chosen and supervised by Japan. He even forged the tiny katana that accompanied the sheath.

Unfortunately that doll had been lost during the Great Fire of Meireki in 1657 and since then Chiyo had rapidly outgrown her need for childish toys and focused her efforts into being a warrior.

Japan watched with a vague sense of helplessness as the fat raindrops began to fall harder, knocking the doll over to its side and starting to soak the fabric. He hesitated, wavering between the instinct to rescue it and walking forward out of respect to the delicate lines and whorls. The patterns would surely be wrecked by the ugly footprints he would inevitably leave on the gravel and pebbles.

Tokyo had shaped the garden into its current design and Japan struggled to come into terms with its meaning. His daughter is strong, loyal and stoic. Since the beginning, Tokyo had been levelled every 25-50 years or so by fire, earthquakes, tsunami, volcanic eruptions and war. She came through each disaster with her head high and proud. His samurai daughter.

 _His daughter._

Without sparing another thought, he leapt from the path and onto the garden. Calling forth his training as a ninja, he tried to tread as lightly as he could on the ground until he was perched precariously on the rock. With gentle hands, he lifted the doll up and stared at it with such fierce affection. His princess had grown up from being a small, virtually unknown fishing village into a world class powerhouse.

Cradling the doll gently with one hand, handle of the wagasa tucked between his neck and shoulder, he gathered up the hem of his kimono in preparation to make the final jump towards the teahouse and then leapt.

When he landed on the veranda, a pair of white socked feet in a scarlet geta greeted his eyes. He felt a flush creeping up his neck and onto his face. Straightening slowly, he kept his face impassive. He hoped that Tokyo had missed his athletic manoeuvres and thus would be able to keep his dignity intact.

The mischievous look in her brown eyes immediately disabused him of the notion. He half-expected her ubiquitous cat ears to pop up on her head. On that note, he absently noted that she had swept her hair up and pinned it with the set of Ogi kanzashi he had given to her on her last birthday, her magnificent kimono glowed softly in the dim light of the paper lamps, her face fresh and free of the undercurrent of pain that had haunted her since the break-up. She lowered her gaze to the floor and gave a deep bow.

“Konbanwa, Nihon Otou-sama,” her soft words fell like rain on the silence between them, melting away the awkwardness.

“Konbanwa, Tokyo-hime,” the words were out of Japan’s mouth before he could stop them. Tokyo will never cease to be his little princess.

Wide shocked eyes glittered with unshed tears before she blinked and gave him a rare warm smile. Without another word, she turned and led him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I apologize for the urple that keeps sneaking in (and over description of random objects). And the list of word meanings which is longer than the fic itself. @___@
> 
> Meaning of Japanese words in order of appearance:  
> [ **Hime**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hime) – Princess  
> [ **Wagasa**](http://rubell.wordpress.com/2009/05/11/my-japanese-paper-umbrella-wasaga/)– Traditional Japanese umbrella. Made of bamboo, wood and oiled paper.  
> [ **Omotesando**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omotesand%C5%8D,_Tokyo) – is a place located in Minato and Shibuya wards in Tokyo. In the Bad Influence canon, where Honda Chiyo aka Tokyo lives.  
> [ **Chaji**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_tea_ceremony)– a type of “tea gathering” where the Japanese Cha no Yu or Tea Ceremony is performed. A chaji is formal and usually includes a full course meal followed by confections, thick tea and thin tea.  
>  **Geta** – a form of traditional Japanese footwear.  
> [ **Kushi and Kanzashi**](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanzashi) – hair ornaments traditionally used in Japanese hairstyle.  
>  **Otou-sama** – Father, with the suffix –sama implying formality and respect.
> 
> Picspam:
> 
> [](http://pics.livejournal.com/wisteria02/pic/00056p7y/)  
> What Japan was carrying through Tokyo's garden.
> 
>  
> 
> What I had imagined Tokyo to be wearing for the tea ceremony.
> 
> The header pic is of an Ogi-bira Kanzashi - also called Princess style kanzashi. They are metal, fan-shaped and kamon-imprinted kanzashi with aluminum streamers and held in place by a long pin.


End file.
